Lyrics:
to wreck shop
I got Tip and Shah, so whom shall I fear?
Stop look and listen, but please don't stare
So jet to the store, and buy the LP
On Jive/RCA,
He asked me not to go so fast
Slow your roll down, babe
He said he got him a little girl
She ain't no cruiser like I am
Well, you know she ain't
He asked me not to go so fast
Slow your roll down, babe
He said he got him a little girl
She ain't no cruiser like I am
Well, you know she ain't
at your Roley, at dem hot shows
So go 'head, boy, get drunk, pop that Mo'
Until I pull ya to the side
See the nine, kid?
And since you got that nice
all that new jack shit
Yo, we don't, we don't play that shit, you know what I'm sayin'?
(Please Mr. Producer, explain yourself, Mr. Rapper, please
a crook 'bout money, if you owe me better pay my money
So rich that I weigh my money and I look like money
And I don't really need new friends
So please
the Slatt, I'm never gon' kid when it come to these racks, uh
Money like O'Neal, I got a few bills to spend these racks (let's go)
I just bought a new cat
loadshedding by Eskom
Dear God please save me, block everything that will hinder my success
Show me the door and please grant me access
I wanna access my inner
drew the Glock, yo my set's aiming
Dumb Motherfucker
Try to roll on me, please
I'm protected by a thousand MC's
And hoodlums and hustlers
all that new jack shit
Yo, we don't, we don't play that shit, you know what I'm sayin'?
(Please Mr. Producer, explain yourself, Mr. Rapper, please
by a girl's wake, they say she died at seven
Hit by a stray, but I pray that there's a hood in heaven
Fake brothers claim there's no shame in their
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
trace
Your girl starin' in my face at seven thousand feet
Turbo, jets in the cockpit
You flock with weak kids on the block with
For protection,
like I'm trippin on tussin
Fussin with the girls they waste my time,
Thrashin and bashin going out of my mind
Crucified by the critics everyday,
the freaks (let's go)
You can spot us out of town by the way that we walk
The way that we talk, cocky, the state of New York (that's right)
Hot now top down
with my eyes drippin down the glass
Shaggy I think they're tryin to start a riot
And then it's Ice T but he don't seem fazed by it
I know the devil's
don't you place the blame on me
As you pour yourself another drink, yeah
I guess we are who we are
Headlights shining in the dark night, I drive
life, let the white folks be
Online beef, not my motif
.45 me, ta-ta, go sleep
Don't mind little old me, lil' OG
J.I.D, I came in on the boat, see
out the muhfuckin' room
'Cause they don't fuckin'
I'd like to propose a toast
I said toast, motherfucker
And I am
(Here's to the Roc)
And they
streets
I'm on my knees beggin please
Come and SAVE ME
THE WHOLE WORLD done made a nigga crazy!
I got my three-five-seven can't control it
Screamin die
of laughter moms, no pops playin wit her son
I pass by a girl wake, they say she died at seven
Hit by a stray, but I pray their's a hood in heaven
Fake
to wreck shop
I got Tip and Shah, so whom shall I fear?
Stop look and listen, but please don't stare
So jet to the store, and buy the LP
On Jive/RCA,
an instant, the fourth of seven children
The oldest male on the block was half and half
Brown, stones to neck bones, crack joints to tones
Where young
but don't worry about it, 'cause there's always someone smaller
than you. You're about seven foot fourteen, don't worry about it either...
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